


it's a whole, like, deal

by vallierdetilly



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Body Image, Canon Era, Insecurity, M/M, Smut and Fluff, Some angst, and ernst loves him back, but happy ending!!, hanschen really loves his awkward ass boyfriend, hernst, hoo boy, i haven't written in FOUR YEARS, im so sorry i don't know how ye olde underwear works, mainly being, then back to smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 19:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18976783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vallierdetilly/pseuds/vallierdetilly
Summary: Puberty has been both a dream and a nightmare for Ernst.





	it's a whole, like, deal

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!! this is the first fic I've ever written on here and I'm super excited!!! I've also posted it on my tumblr of the same name!!

Puberty has been both a dream and a nightmare for Ernst.

He has the painful reality of being both the youngest (14) and the tallest (a skeletal, gauche 5'10") in his gymnasium. He genuinely doesn’t know what he has done to deserve it; when he looks in the mirror, all he can see are buggish brown eyes, an oddly bee-stung pair of lips, and a body that possesses far too many bones. Arguably, the only parts of his body he feels he has control over since these changes started happening to him are the dark, earthy locks on his head, which his mama insists be meticulously styled to the left, just the way the Robel men before him had worn it. They have a strict reputation to uphold in their little town outside of Munich, he is reminded on a regular basis, but he is too busy to uphold their carefully planned image when his own self-image is so turbulent.

Compare this with Hanschen Rilow. The older boy is a more acceptable 5'7", and unlike Ernst, he is athletic in build, his school uniform fitting him handsomely in places where it might be falling off of Ernst. His grey eyes are the right breadth on his symmetrical face, his lips smooth and pink as a ripe cherry, and his sandy brown hair never seems out of place. He carries himself with a confident swagger when he is not in his classes or the church: a true juxtaposition to the other the boys in Freising. If he were to grin (which he rarely does), he’d reveal the only feature that Ernst, and the public, may not consider perfect: his teeth are a bit yellowed, with some sticking out of the rows like a woodchip on a used ruler.

But Ernst doesn’t mind, especially not when he is blithely wearing Hanschen’s bedsheets.

He looks up in anticipation at a half-exposed Hanschen standing at the end of his bed, watching him slide his breeches down past his thighs (and _God, his thighs_ , Ernst thinks to himself) and kick them off, the pants landing at the base of one of his bedroom walls. In the late-afternoon light shining from the window, Ernst imagines Hanschen as one of the Greek heroes that they learn about in school. Hanschen’s grey eyes are clouded with a palpable lust, an electricity that sends sparks down Ernst’s spine. Without thinking, he parts his lips, and Hanschen gives up on removing his undergarment before crawling towards Ernst and gently biting at the skin below his collar bone.

Ernst feels like he is crashing through the surface of an ocean and plunging into its depths all at once. He glides a hand up Hanschen’s toned chest, his fingers skimming the tan skin and yearning for more contact. He drapes his other arm around onto Hanschen’s back so he can pull his body down onto his, eliciting a low groan from Hanschen.

“You’ve gotten quite the appetite.” Hanschen removes his mouth from Ernst’s jaw and smirks, noticing the growing blush on Ernst’s cheeks. He is right; ever since Hanschen first made love to him, all Ernst wants is more Hanschen. He can’t stop himself, and he definitely has started praying more as well, but Hanschen is more than worth the extra worship.

Hanschen maneuvers his body so Ernst’s length is rubbing against his fabric, provoking Ernst to vocalize with pleasure. Ernst catches himself for a second - his voice, especially when he doesn’t think before he speaks, is not quite unpleasant, but he notices the extra consonants and vowels he adds into words, as well as the deep cracks that pervade his otherwise light timbre. He decides to ignore it for now.

“Take it off already, Hansch- _please_ ,” he begs, and is rewarded when Hanschen undoes the garment and grabs both of their cocks with his hand.

“Yes, Ernst?” He places his forehead against Ernst’s, his steel grey eyes not daring to break contact. Ernst starts panting when he begins to work his wrist in slow strokes.

“I- I- just like that,” Ernst wheezes, smashing his lips into Hanschen’s and allowing him to snake his tongue behind Ernst’s teeth. He tries to murmur an “I love you,” but his mouth is busy.

Hanschen adjusts himself until he is between Ernst’s thighs, sitting up straight so he can stop supporting himself with one arm and move his beloved’s legs apart. Ernst cries at the loss of stimulation on his cock, instinctively wrapping his hands around himself and forgoing his sight in bliss.

He feels a swift slap against his hand, his eyes flying open to see Hanschen laughing at Ernst’s impatientness. He feels lucky that Hanschen’s parents are out of town on business matters.

“Now, now,” Hanschen mutters, a devious glint in his eye. “Don’t get too hungry.”

Ernst giggles, arching his back and resting his cheek on Hanschen’s pillow when he sees himself in Hanschen’s desk mirror.

He stops giggling at once, going silent.

He can see the bones from his ribs jutting out of his skin like a bare carcass, his long leg dangling off the side of Hanschen’s in a clumsily fashion, and his lips bruised from the friction. Ernst feels a cringe take over his body, a pervading sense of “ _There’s no way this is who I am_.”

He shies away from the sight of his dilated eyes and finds that he can’t look at Hanschen either, his broad stature starting to make him feel self-conscious. He turns towards the window, gazing at the oak tree growing outside Hanschen’s house and not noticing that the other teenager has seen his shift in demeanor.

“Ernst? Is everything alright?” he hears Hanschen ask, concern dripping from his voice. Ernst can’t find it in himself to say anything, insecurity holding his tongue at the back of his throat.

“Ernst?” he asks again, cupping Ernst’s cheek and turning his head to face him. Ernst sighs, hesitantly.

“Hanschen… I don’t understand.”

A sense of puzzlement causes Hanschen’s eyebrows to furrow. “What don’t you understand?”

“You’re 15, and just look at you. Everything about you is so wonderful,” Ernst says, and Hanschen chuckles.

“Why, thank you. But surely you can’t mean that you think that-”

“Yes,” Ernst interjects, noticing the sadness that Hanschen’s face starts to convey.

“I’m too tall for my age, my eyes are too wide, my lips are chapped all the time and my skin looks like it too, I have no muscle-”

He doesn’t notice that he is rambling and quickly picking up speed like a freight train until Hanschen places both of his hands on his frail shoulders, gently shushing him. “Ernst, Ernst, calm down,” he whispers, and Ernst takes a deep, steadying breath. “Do you not believe in God?”

Ernst blinks at the seemingly abrupt twist in conversation. “What?”

“Do you not believe in God?”

“Ye- yes,” Ernst stammers. Hanschen nods approvingly.

“And God created all of us, correct?” Hanschen questions further, a glint in his eye as he sees Ernst catching up to him.

“Of course,” Ernst replies.

“Then, Ernst, don’t you think that God created you as he would have intended?”

He is taken aback at Hanschen’s last response, not knowing how to respond. He looks Hanschen up and down.

“I… guess,” he answers quietly. Hanschen softly places a hand on Ernst’s waist. “But that’s not what Father Kaulbach would-”

“God and Father Kaulbach are two different people who preach two different ideologies,” Hanschen cuts. “If you ask me, Father doesn’t know a single thing he is talking about.” He is sure to tread, being careful not to offend Ernst. He is aware of how religious Ernst is, how carefully Ernst lives his life to abide by the book. By the expectations of his family, who want him to grow up and marry a nice girl in the middle of nowhere.

“You think?” Ernst breathes. Hanschen scoots closer, pulling some of his bedsheets with him.

“I know.” Hanschen smiles, teeth bare, and Ernst feels the warmth fill his stomach again, something like a sunbeam and something definitely like love. “Ernst, since we began this three months ago, I have come to know you in a way that I haven’t known anyone before, any _thing_ before.”

Ernst laughs to himself at the slight resemblance to the confession he blurted out to Hanschen in the vineyard. _As I’ve never loved anyone._

“You allow yourself to express so much emotion and love that no one else in your family will, and that makes you a welcome breath of fresh air in this society. You are so kind, and so thoughtful, and by far the most caring person I know. I promise you this, Ernst. You are exactly the way God wants you to be.” Ernst’s heart begins to thump at a growing pace and he realizes that Hanschen is holding his breath, having more to say. Hanschen has a tendency to dramatically pause for effect, Ernst has picked up on.

“Yes, Hansi?” he asks expectedly.

“You are so, _so_ wonderful,” Hanschen finishes in a hush, leaning in to tenderly kiss Ernst. Ernst flushes at Hanschen’s encouragement, wrapping his arms around him and bringing him closer once again. He feels Hanschen smile against his lips, the joy transferring from one boy to the other. Ernst folds his legs around Hanschen, pressing himself against Hanschen’s muscular abdomen. Hanschen pulls away again.

“And darling? You are painfully beautiful,” he continues. He deftly lays Ernst down with one hand on his heart and gently motions for him to look at the mirror again.

It is hard for Ernst, but he does, seeing Hanschen begin to reassuringly kiss his neck.

“I think about your bare neck when it’s covered your school blazer,” he says, breath hot against Ernst’s skin, moving down to his chest. His kisses are wet and sloppy, but it cools Ernst down because the room around him is burning. “I think about this, too.”

Ernst begins to breathe heavily, propping himself up on his elbows and focusing on the top of Hanschen’s head as he lowers himself down further.

“Not a minute goes by when this doesn’t cross my mind,” Hanschen refers to Ernst’s stomach, his mind shifting back to domination and sucking purple bruises wherever he can. Hanschen’s hands roam Ernst’s sides, tickling him slightly.

Ernst looks in the mirror again and is astonished to see someone else. His eyes aren’t as buggish as he remembers, instead contently admiring Hanschen’s skill. His lips resemble two carnation petals. His legs are no longer bony and coltish, instead spread out on Hanschen’s bed in wait. His stomach is rising and falling with each of his lover’s kisses.

Ernst realizes that he’s never looked happier. In other words, that he’s found his soulmate.

Hanschen starts vulgarly licking Ernst’s thighs, relishing in the pleasure he gives the younger boy. He hums in acknowledgement when Ernst starts moaning in shutters, moving towards the base of his growing hard-on.

“Hanschen?” Ernst moans, and Hanschen peers up at him through his eyelashes. Ernst identifies the same intoxicated look in Hanschen’s eyes that he noticed in his own. “I love you.”

Hanschen smiles at this, and drags himself forward so he is face to face with Ernst.

“I love you so much, Ernst.” Hanschen delicately kisses Ernst again before clasping his arms around him with all the strength he can muster. “I always will.”

His voice is strangled and he pulls away from his paramour’s mouth, quickly sliding his tongue down Ernst’s body until his lips are on top of Ernst’s member. Ernst trembles as his fists find purchase in Hanschen’s hair - gloriously tousled - and weakly tightens his grip as Hanschen sinks down onto his cock.

He genuinely doesn’t know what he has done to deserve it.


End file.
